Harry Potter and the Viridian Wand
by Love Gordon
Summary: Harry Potter returns home to England after five years... to discover that Voldemort is about to be raised from the dead. By a five-year-old girl.


Yahoo

**Harry Potter and the Viridian Wand**

by Love Gordon

PROLOGUE

They were in a small, darkened chamber deep within the earth. The walls and floor smelt of it: of the dirt, roots, and decomposing leaves. Faintly; enough so only the child noticed.

The child sat in the corner, clothed in a brown hooded smock of some old and withered material. It might have been the burlap of a flour sack, once. A small tendril of brown hair escaped the darkness of the hood. Her face was in its folds, but she was watching.

A woman clothed in black linen scattered herbs on the floor. She poked at them irritably with a wand and scowled. The old man pointed his wand at the fire and muttered "Lumos." The dimness of the room lifted a bit, and the woman fixed a few things. 

"There," she said. The child saw only a circle drawn in the dirt, and another circle of herbs within it, but said nothing. Who was she to argue with the woman's mysterious ways? The old man nodded noncommittally.

"It is… sufficient," he commented, letting not a hint of praise or disapproval into his voice. The woman hung on his every word, the child noticed. Then he turned toward the faint glow of the hearth. "This is all that really matters."

"But… but I thought…!" the woman cried shrilly, and the old man clapped his hands to his head as if his ears hurt. He sighed.

"It's only for protection. Not strictly necessary. You are weaker than I though, Lowell. You cannot feel the power of the earth?"

The woman called Lowell said nothing. The child wondered how long it would be before she revealed her true nature to him.

***~CHAPTER 1 - "FLY"~* **

Harry Potter set foot in the Heathrow airport for the first time at 3:47 that afternoon. It was a Muggle plane he had travelled home on. He was returning from dealing with some Unspeakable things in the Mayan temples deep in Mexico, too far away to Apparate.

He had not set foot in England in five years.

Since his last battle against Voldemort, when he had been twenty-two, he had been on extended leave from the Unspeakables office in London to the one in Mexico. Well, that was only for the last year; before he'd been in China, Russia, Thailand, the US, all over the globe. But never back to England. Even with Voldemort banished beyond this world into the realm of death, he had run. Harry had hoped he could escape… from the memories of his two best friends, Hermione and Ron Weasley, and their infant daughter, who had all been killed by Voldemort.

Late the previous night he had received an urgent dispatch from the Ministry of Magic. Percy Weasley, the current Minister, had ordered him home at once. A witch- unnamed, surprisingly - had sensed a disturbance in the barrier between the spiritual and physical realms -exactly what Harry specialized in. But it was more than that. The witch- whoever it was - had sensed that a wizard of enormous power was involved. Someone with enough power to wake the dead.

Someone with enough power to wake Voldemort.

So, Harry Potter had flown to London via Muggle plane to Heathrow Airport. Now on his once-familiar home turf, he didn't know what to do. He stood outside the disembarking gate for a moment before Charlie Weasley found him.

"Here, let's get your bags," he said, without a greeting. He motioned for Harry to follow, and headed straight for the luggage claim. When Harry didn't move, he spun around. "Look, I'd like to tell you what's going on, but I know less that you do. Fred and George were delayed, and you are supposed to meet them in," he looked at his watch, "Five minutes! So let's go."

"Okay…" Harry said with a shrug. Strange. But that was the Ministry. All of the Weasley brothers, except for the eldest, Bill, were in its employ. Even Ron had been…

When the two had gathered Harry's bags, they took a Portkey to a nearby wizarding inn on Diagon Alley. It was called, most appropriately, the Diagon Alley Inn. There, Fred and George Weasley greeted them with much enthusiasm. After all had settled down with some lunch from a nearby pub, Charlie left.

"I suppose you know I'm your new boss in Unspeakables," Fred began. Harry nodded. "George still works in our company, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, most of the time, but then I've always done a bit more with the Ministry than he. However, we're both working on this case. You know the basics."

"Realm disturbance by a powerful wizard, 11 pm Monday night. It's two days ago tonight," Harry stated automatically.

"Yes. A mediumistic witch sensed an overlap at approximately 11:09. No other witches or wizards, as far as we know, were alerted to this, but the witch says she sensed something familiar about the power, and that may be why. She's of a group of about thirty that work to maintain barriers between the realms. The disturbance was well-hidden."

"The ideal thing would be to work with her. Is she still on duty?"

"Well…," Fred hesitated.

George spoke. "In ordinary circumstances that's what we would do, but… I don't think…"

"It's Ginny, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Yes." The three cohorts turned around at the sound of the voice. Percy leaned against the doorframe. He wore green robes emblazoned with the Ministry of Magic logo. He continued, "That's why you came back, isn't it? You knew."

Harry didn't deny it. "I did."

"You'd have had to return even if I hadn't owled an S.O.S. You can feel the danger, can't you?"

Harry reached up and touched the scar that had been given to him more than twenty-five years before. He remembered how it had ached that Monday night, as he prepared for bed. It had been so intense, he'd nearly passed out.

"I was worried about Ginny," he said finally.

"So you do have some feelings for her, after all."

"And you thought I didn't?"

"Look… You went AWOL for a while. No one knew if You-Know-Who had killed you or what, except for Lupin, and he wasn't telling. You left your wife of three weeks behind in London with not a word as to your whereabouts. Shortly after her brother, best friend, and their daughter were killed. It's not like I don't know where I'm coming from."

"A lot more went on then you make it sound like."

"Such as?"

"I was a mess for a while. Stayed in St. Mungo's for nearly a year. I didn't want to go back to her in pieces."

"Even your ashes would have been enough."

The two men glared at each other. Fred sighed.

"Percy, Harry, enough. We have a renegade source of power loose on the planet, You-Know-Who about to stage a comeback and you two are going at it like three-year-olds. Cut - it - out!" he said emphatically.

"He's right," Harry spat out. "I left her at a time when she needed me most, without telling her if I was alive or dead. I was terribly wrong and acted like an idiot with a half-addled brain, several broken ribs, and a punctured lung, which was exactly what I was. Okay, Percy? You win!"

There was total silence. And then:

"All right then, Harry. Now, here are the reports I brought… Fred, George, will you please stop laughing? The situation is not funny!"

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The child sat in the corner again. She didn't fidget. Her hands rested gently against the cheap, nubbly fabric of her hooded dress. Her face was – again - shadowed, and the child was utterly still.

"It's uncanny," said the old man, clad in beige linen robes. He and Lowell sat at the table in another of the underground rooms. The dirt floor here was dusty, and his hems were brown with it. The old man stroked his long white beard as he looked at her. The child lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes shining in the darkness. He flinched.

"She's not dangerous," Lowell said softly, reassuring the man. "She won't hurt you, Abram."

"You are a fool to think that. When she is older, she will have enough power to destroy us all. Perhaps she could now - there is no telling the extent of her powers."

Now Lowell laughed. "It is not you who have had the care of her all these years. She has no more mind that an unthinking simpleton. Her only blessing is that she is a vessel for her enormous power."

The old man Abram stood up from the rickety log table and walked over to the child. He knelt in front of her, and carefully pushed back the hood that covered her head, as if he were uncovering a delicate object. He placed a hand under her chin, and tilted her face up to his. His eyes widened at what he saw. Her face was blank, a careful, studied blankness; her eyes were opaque jewels, glittering and empty. She stared at him with an unflinching gaze; or perhaps that was only the way her eyes were focused.

He backed away, shuddering, letting her head drop abruptly back into place under the hood. Abram was obviously unnerved, and looked much older than his sixty-some years. He looked at Lowell, who was studying the floor beneath her feet.

"Anyone with a drop of magical ability could sense her intelligence! Lowell, you have some explaining to do," he said.

No one saw the child's expressionless lips curve into a smile.

***~CHAPTER 2 - "Wolf"~* **

"So, we've cross-referenced, analyzed, studied latent trends in magical ability…" Fred said. His monologue was interrupted by a yawn from George.

"And what do we have?" asked Harry.

"Realm Disturbance level two. Contact was made between a physical and a metaphysical realm, but nothing was transmitted. We also have a wizard with power levels never before seen by the International Magical Regulation force, who is unregistered. The IMR's data goes back nearly seven hundred years. However, there are a few tales of witches with this power, going back several thousand years. The last known witch, never IMR registered I might add, was Morgan Le Fay…"

"Merlin's Robes!" Harry exclaimed. 

"What?"

"Do you know who Morgan Le Fay was?" 

"Vaguely. I don't recall Professor Binns mentioning her."

"He didn't. Dumbledore didn't like him getting the students stirred up in a frenzy."

"Why would Professor Binns ever do that?"

"If you'd heard the story you'd know. You've heard of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, right? It's sort of a Muggle legend. Morgan Le Fay was his younger sister, a very powerful witch, much like her mother Ygraine. After her father's death, and Arthur's rise to fame, she turned her efforts to the Dark Arts. She was 13 at the time, and under the tutelage of her half-sister, Morgause, a fearful witch in her own right. As the legends say, she did once steal Arthur's sword, Excalibur, but in the wizarding world she is know for things quite different."

"Which is?"

"Her wand, the Viridian Wand, allowed whoever used it to have complete command over their power. It's a certified Magical Artifact, actually. Oh, and one of her descendants was a founder of Hogwarts. Salazar Slytherin himself."

"You're joking! We have a powerful witch on the loose, associating with the Dark Arts?"

"Not necessarily. Other witches with similar powers have turned out all right." _Some better than all right_, Harry thought, but did not say.

"I'm sure."

"All that's left to do is talk to the medium. Ginny." Percy said, interrupting them.

"Yes," said George in agreement. The three Weasley men turned to face their brother-in-law.

"Okay. But I'm going alone. She knows I'm coming? You've owled her?" Harry asked.

"Of course."

"Good. It's quarter to three now. If I'm not back by six, send the Magical Reversals squad in to bring me out."

"Very funny."

The Weasley brothers watched Harry's form recede from their door. When they could no longer see him walking down the hallway, Fred and George turned to face each other.

"Ten Galleons says he stumbles out of there in five minutes with a broken bone or two and crockery shards in his hair," George said with a grin.

"Ten Galleon says she skips the rolling pin and crockery, and hits him with a Furnuculus Charm right off the bat," his twin replied with glee.

"Now, now, you're being positively juvenile," said Percy to his brothers in a stern tone. He paused. "Twenty Galleons says he leaves at five to six with rumpled clothes and lipstick on his ear."

"Five to six? Oh, Percy, I doubt she's as forgiving as you are," Fred said. George was quaking with laughter.

"Well, ten past, then," Percy conceded.

"You're on!" George yelped, before submitting to a fit of hysterical laughter.

____________________________________________________________

Harry paused on the sidewalk before the small, cozy house. Despite the fact that he still owned part of it, he had never been inside, except for once. When the realtor had shown them around.

It had been in genteel disrepair then, but showed no sign of neglect now. The bungalow was painted pure white and trimmed delicately with blue, the kind of blue the skies in his dreams were. A faded blue. Flowers grew riotously in the garden - for that was what the front lawn was, a garden. A picket fence framed the picture. It looked ridiculously beautiful, a country cottage in the middle of London.

A thought struck him as he stood there at the gate. What if it had all been a dream? Hermione, Ron, their baby, Ginny, all inside, waiting for him...Harry shook his head, as if to shake off the thought, and walked up the path. He knocked on the door.

Ginny opened the door. Just the fact that she was there, right in front of him, just so marvelously Ginny, was enough to distract him from what she was saying. He shook his head again.

"...late. It's five past three," she said.

"I'm sorry." It was all Harry could say. It wasn't enough.

"Come in." Her voice hadn't a hint of friendliness. It was cool, business-like. He stepped in, and Ginny shut the door.

They stood there in the hallway for a moment, uncertain of what to do. All he had the power to do was look at her, take in the sight of her in her pale gold robes and long red hair. She hadn't changed so much in five years. She still smelt of the expensive Givenchy perfume she had loved as a teenager. But now, they were strangers to each other.

Suddenly, Ginny erupted into a fountain of tears. He caught her as she started to collapse, gently lifted her up, and set her on the couch in the living room. Having done that, he proffered a box of tissues, which she took.

Harry sat quietly across from her in a comfortable, if slightly battered, armchair. However, he was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and out of place.

When she had calmed down a bit, the first words Ginny choked out were surprisingly accompanied with a smile.

"My first - instinct - was to - hurt - you - with a Furnuculus - charm," Ginny said, sniffling, the corners of her mouth turning up a bit. Harry laughed. "Well, I hadn't any crockery handy!" she added indignantly. "Be glad I didn't have my wand!"

"You take after your brothers." Harry commented.

"Oh?"

"I left an Eavesdrop token on the floor of the suite we were in. George has ten Galleons on you going after me with the good china and a rolling pin, and Fred an equal amount on you hitting me with a Furnuculus charm." He smiled. Ginny grinned back.

"What about Percy?"

"Er...never mind about Percy."

An awkward silence resumed.

"Do you hate me?" Harry asked after a bit.

"No!" Ginny said sharply. She tugged at the hem of her robe absently. "Never."

"You should."

"Because you went to pieces?"

"Because I left you when I did."

"I knew you were alive. Lupin told me. He retired last year, you know."

"I heard about it."

"Yes, I suppose you would have. Since he was the only one you were in contact with."

"Ginny..." It was the first time he'd said her name during that entire meeting. She looked up from her hem. "Would you mind picking up that glass over there on the table?" She walked over and did so, though clearly confused. "Now, throw it at the wall."

The crash of Waterford crystal against the wall could be heard throughout the house. Ginny picked up her wand, which had been lying next to the glass.

"_Reparo_. And yes, Harry, I do feel a bit better. Perhaps a Sevres plate would have been more emphatic, thought."

"Lupin did take you through the mind-reading classes, after all. They're not standard fare for mediums, though since you're a Realm Watcher - "

"Quite inevitable," Ginny said absently, completing the sentence for him. "On a similar note, I intend to have quite a talk with our Minister of Magic."

"I see."

"Yes, I believe you do." Ginny sat back down on the couch.

"He's going to lose that bet."

"Indeed. You're going out that door no earlier than seven-fifteen. There's an X-Files marathon on."

Harry shook his head for a third time, but now it was in general disbelief. "I still don't understand why you're so enthralled by Muggle TV."

"It's the novelty, I suppose - but it's half past three now. You've got precious little time to hear my strange story - and strange it is."

_________________________________________________________________

"It's innocent," Lowell said, "truly it is. It's why I took her. I knew she was valuable. You don't know what it meant to me. I found out about her power, and took her. That's when I knew I could get him to give me the power."

"The power?" Abram said skeptically.

"I'm...I'm a pureblood. But I have no magic. I'm as weak as a Muggle. I thought...if I got her... she's so powerful... he'd cure me. Voldemort. He would be so grateful!

"But before I could give her to him, Harry Potter, damn him, killed my Lord. So I waited until she was powerful enough to come to your attention. You are the only pureblood to know about her; my family thought she was my bastard daughter, and rarely spoke to anyone of her, or me. I was closeted away for years by them for my sins."

"Who are you then, Lowell James? I doubt that's your last name."

"My name is Lowell Goyle."

"Goyle and a Squib! That must be something. You're the first wife's daughter, of course. You don't look like your half-brother," Abram observed, and indeed Lowell did not. Her brother was chunky, with a brain the size of a pea; Lowell was willowy and slim, young looking even in her mid-thirties. And smart. 

The child had taken all this in with her usual quietness. This she had known before Lowell had taken her from her room up in the tower of the Goyle mansion; she had known it for so long that it defined her existence. Lowell lacked power, and the child had it. But she was startled at the next remark by Abram.

"So you are the Wand's guardian. Why on earth didn't you tell me this before?"

"The Viridian Wand is not of importance. You would have found out soon enough - I am going to give it to her tonight to help her to control her power."

"You are going to give a five-year-old a five thousand year-old emerald to use as a wand? One that is a certified Magical Artifact? Are you insane?"

"She works well with the wand. She's used it before, when I would repeat a spell and hold the wand. But she doesn't appear to have much long-term memory. I've always thought her a simpleton. Despite who she is."

"She's not."

"As you say. She is a Maiden. Confused? I will explain.

"A wise woman. A mage. There are many names for her kind. The last known one was Morgan Le Fay, but many have existed since. They never show up on IMR tests, but they exist. The basic thing with a wizard is this - he or she is judged by his/her knowledge and experience on IMR tests. But wizards have a finite amount of power. Now, she could draw power all day and not stop until she over-exerts herself. Rarely, once ever thousand years or so, a male Maiden will come along. Harry Potter is this millennium's."

Abram nodded, comprehending. The child noted the name, and resolved to talk with this Mr. Potter sometime in the future. He was one of her kind.

****

***~CHAPTER 3 - "Celebrate You"~***

Ginny took a deep breath. She didn't want to hurt him, but he had to know the truth.

"Harry," she said softly, "Who discovered Hermione and Ron's bodies?"

He shuddered. "Please, please, don't ask me to tell you about it...It was terrible..."

"You. Alright. All I want to know is this: how did you recognize them, and where was Mica?"

"The baby?"

"Yes, the baby. Mica Stella! Only a month old, she was born in May..." Harry looked at her desperately. She could hear him, clearly thinking to her, pleading with her to let those old memories lay low. "I could channel your thoughts. Find the memory for you. I am a medium, after all."

"No," he said hesitantly, then, more firmly. "I'll tell you. I saw them...the fire had wreaked havoc on them...I could see the edge of her favourite robes, his hair...I didn't see Mica."

"Thank you." She leaned across the small distance to take one of his hands in her own. "I mean, really, thank you. You've just proved to me that I'm not entirely crazy."

"Oh?" She sat back, releasing him in time enough to observe him raising his eyebrow as he spoke.

"Voldemort did not kill Hermione and Ron. He could not have, because you were their secret keeper. 

"When we came home from our honeymoon, we found their house a pile of smoldering rubble. You ran off, defeated Voldemort just before he took Hogwarts, and kept running. I started training under Lupin.

"I woke up the night before last at 11:09 PM. I'm one of the few Realm Watchers sensitive enough to sleep on duty, and I had just dozed off before I sensed something funky going on. A giant amount of power was being channeled to establish contact between the metaphysical realm and Earth. I felt Voldemort. I got the impression of a permeation of evil. But that wasn't the power.

"It was the power that amazed me.

"I would say that power - generally speaking - is very personal. A wizard who is well educated, whether male or female, will have more refined power, and more command over it. This power was fully under command, but it was raw. The effort would have put any normal wizard under for two days, Harry. It was a massive amount of pure power.

"Then I really sensed the witch behind it. Little or no training. Her wand is not of Olivander origin. Very intelligent. Not good or evil. Fearless.

"It seemed to me much like the magic of a child. The lack of intentions especially. As if the child were obeying a command.

"I thought of Mica. She was the only child never really accounted for. Then I realized, if Mica wasn't dead, someone must have kidnapped her. But why her? It would make much more sense if her parents were taken, great wizards that they were. And here I become confused. Only a Muggle could have found them to kill them, since they have no magical ability. But why would one? Assuming a wizard had found them, and kidnapped them, the two dead bodies could have been of others, under a Glamour. But a wizard couldn't have found them..." Ginny trailed off. "She tried, but failed, to contact him again last night. Did your scar hurt?"

"Actually, it did, but not so sharply as the first time."

"What if she tries again tonight?"

"We could make contact with her. At least you could, you're a medium."

"It's possible. Personally, I think that you could certainly mind reach if you tried, or I could channel some of your power. It does get quite exhausting."

"Shall I owl Percy?"

"Oh, by all means. You're going to be much, much later than ten past six," Ginny said with a smirk. As much as her brother annoyed her, when he wasn't being a stuffy politician he had some good ideas...

Harry suppressed a chuckle, and said nonchalantly, "You know, Lupin was my boss too..."

If her face wasn't as flaming red as her hair, Ginny Weasley reflected, then she would eat the Sorting Hat. Or her hat. Or something.

"You could just eat the popcorn that you have in your kitchen, you know. Probably would taste a good sight better."

Ginny buried her face in her hands. "I swear, Harry Potter, moments like these make me wonder why I married you!"

"Well," Harry said with a sigh, "it's not as if either of us ever really got much of a chance to find out why you did."

_________________________________________________________________

"It's quarter to four, Percy. He's not back yet," George said, glaring at the clock. He and Fred had been going over the W.W.W. (Weasley's Wizard Wheezes) accounts, and Percy had been seeing to some paperwork that had to be done.

"So you're giving up?" Percy asked.

"Well...if he walked out of there at approximately ten past six, disheveled...yes. But until then, no."

"Oh, I'll get the best of you two."

"Penelope would be surprised to hear you've been joining in on such childish games." Fred nodded in agreement, and then went back to his papers.

"She'd be delighted. At least the children would be," Percy replied thoughtfully. He had been married to Penelope Clearwater for eight years. The duo was currently waiting the birth of child number four.

"Speaking of kids, are you two planning to break Mum and Dad's record for 'Most Children Living Under Roof at Same Time'?" Fred inquired.

"Not planning, no..."

"But it will happen anyway!" Fred said with a smile.

"It's not like you two were even in the running to breaking that particular record. Still confirmed bachelors?" 

"Yes!" was George's ardent reply.

"Until I secure Angelina Johnson as my date for the party of life, yes," Fred said reluctantly. His brothers' eyes practically popped out of their heads. "Oh, you two. You operate on another planet!"

_____________________________________________________________

Ginny considered this. "Well, there was the honeymoon," she said uncertainly.

Harry chuckled, and remarked, "What was Ron's definition of a honeymoon anyway? It eludes me."

"I believe it was 'Minimal sightseeing, maximum leisure time'. At least that was what Hermione said."

"To give her credit, at least she gave you the PC version. As far as you can actually consider that PC."

"If three weeks in Jamaica don't count...You still saved my life. Several times. And you don't snore."

"True. You don't snore either."

"You let me throw your mother's prized Waterford crystal against the wall."

"You let me into the house unharmed despite the fact you wanted to bash crockery over my head and assail me with the Furnuculus charm."

"They said we were a great match, once."

"We still could be."

"No, Harry," she said, rising from the couch and going over to the window. He followed her and she turned around to face him. "We still are."

"You'd forgive me for what I did to you?"

"Terrible things happened. If you'll forgive yourself...I've already forgiven you."

"So you _do_ consider me worth missing the X-Files for," Harry said, or started to say, for before he had completed the fourth word, he was wrapped around his wife, and kissing her as if the five years that had passed were naught.

"You know," Ginny remarked when she came up for air, "we'll never get anything done at this rate."

"I don't know about that," said Harry, disentangling himself.

"You've spent far too much time with my brothers. Before you know it, you'll be feeding poor old Dumbledore Canary Creams when he comes to tea."

"No, I wouldn't. I much prefer the Ton Tongue Toffees myself."

"Speaking of my brothers..." Ginny got up and walked over to a desk in a corner of the room. After writing a short message on a bit of parchment, she tied it to the leg of her owl, Bodicea, and let the bird out the window.

"Owling Percy?" Harry inquired.

"Yes. We haven't much time, only a few hours to prepare. She usually starts by 11. Gather your things."

"Why?"

"We'll have to do it in the bedroom."

_________________________________________________________________

"Focus...focus..." the old man said. Abram. The child kept forgetting. Lowell wasn't helping this time, and now it was only the old man holding her hands. But they needed three. He doesn't know, the child reasoned. She summoned her powers.

"Lowell." It was the first time the man had heard her speak, and he jumped. Her voice was as soft and sweet as any five-year-olds.

"Lowell! Get over here!" Abram shouted, terrified. _Well, he ought to be,_ the child thought.

One hand she gave to Lowell on her left, one to Abram on her right. She concentrated on the fire...she had to do as Lowell said. Make him come. In the fire. Focus...Focus...

"Well done, child," the man hissed softly. The child didn't like the man. She knew Abram and Lowell feared him, revered him, but to her fear was something unknown. Lowell was a fool...but she must do what Lowell had said.

"Master," Lowell cried, kneeling in front of him. _Disgusting,_ the child thought.

"Quite right, girl. Get up off your knees, woman! You sicken me. It is revolting to think that a Squib is guardian to such a child as the one that grants me my appearance, but at least you are no Mudblood. And you, Abram Malfoy! You who pretended to know naught of the Death Eaters at your trial!" The man shook his head.

"But I have plans to raise you from the dead, Master!" cried Abram.

"Plans, yes. But no action. What repulses me most is that a Mudblood witch is the only one powerful enough to bring me back. What of Draco Malfoy?"

"In darkest Azkaban, my Lord."

"Pitiful! A bunch of dimwits, a traitor and a squib, using a five-year-old Mudblood girl-"

The child sneered at him and spit at his image. The fire flickered.

"Master, please, don't anger her, she's your only hope-" Lowell pleaded.

"She's an insolent brat, just like her mother!"

The child was furious. She did not know whoor where her mother was, but that did not contain her temper. No one had ever talked back to her. She screamed, picked up a handful of dirt, and threw it in the fire. From her robes she plucked a long, dull green object, and she pointed it straight at the fire. 

"_Extinguo!_" she yelped, and then crumpled to the floor in exhaustion. With a hiss of water on fire, the hearth was extinguished.

Abram picked up the Viridian Wand. He turned to Lowell, waving the slim emerald in her face.

"I told you not to give her this thing!"   
  
  
  


***~CHAPTER 4 - "Sleeping Where I Want"~* **

"Focus...Focus..." Ginny Potter chanted softly. She lay on her bed as Harry murmured some protective spells over her. She became less and less aware of her physical state...

The girl was there. She heard the older man talking, but all she was truly aware ofwas the fire. Heat. Warmth. Death. 

"...brat just like your mother."

Rage. Share my strength, the girl says silently. Dirt on the hearth. As loud as you can. The wand. Green flashes...

"_Extinguo!_"

Darker. Half-sleep.

_Who are you, child? _

_I am the Maiden. Power is my name. Like Mr. Potter. _

_Who bids you? _

_The ones without power. I am the means to achieve their own ends. But where would I go if free? _

_Who are they? What are their names? _

_I am tired. Let me rest. How do know you do not wish me harm? _

_I am with Mr. Potter, as you call him. _

_You are not of my kind. _

_Is Mr. Potter? _

_Yes, or like it. _

_I am...Ginny Potter. _

_I know who you are. You mean no harm? _

_Never. _

_Then send Mr. Potter. Until then, I am of their bidding_.

The mind-hold crackled and disappeared. She drifted...almost as if on an ocean. But waves...such giant waves...shaking her. Still shaking...Harry was shaking her.

"Ginny! Wake up! Please, God, wake up!" His voice said. She blinked, groggily. "Are you alright?" His face leaned over hers.

"Yes. I think," she said softly. "Mind talking is tiresome."

"You weren't just mind talking. You spoke, and she spoke through you."

"Oh." Ginny tried to sit up, but found that before she had gotten halfway up, she tired. She collapsed back onto the bed.

"What you need is rest. It's nearly midnight. Why don't you go to sleep?"

"Don't leave me."

"I won't."

_________________________________________________________________

"We all lost," George proclaimed dismally. The Weasley trio was enjoying a post-midnight snack.

"Anyone up for new wagers, folks?" Fred jovially queried.

"Of course. You, Percy?"

"Alright," their older brother said reluctantly.

"15 Galleons says that - " George was abruptly cut off by the rapping of a small owl against the window.

Percy let it - or her, actually, as it was revealed to be Lupin's owl, Seraphina - in. 

"It's urgent," the aforementioned elder Weasley said in surprise, "He's in New Hope. What the heck is he doing in New Hope?" As all three knew, New Hope, Delaware, in the USA, was alive with magical activities. Both Dark and good magic ruled the streets. New Hope was a place of intrigue.

Fred took the letter from him and scanned it briefly. "He's found a woman who's been sensing the disturbances. Somehow, word of the realm disturbance got through to him, and one of his witch friends there mentioned knowing a woman who...something like that. American Ministry's so bass-ackwards she reported it Tuesday and they haven't filed the paperwork yet. Bunch of dolts over there."

"Oh, come off it, they're just a bit...rustic," his twin interjected.

"If that's what you call it. He's sending her over here, at about 2:37 AM our time, and she'll Apparate to our hotel room...Yes, do throw your robes on. Best not to greet her in our nightclothes. Her name is Caroline Newman, and she is a witch of the Cassadaga Coven..." He trailed off. George and Percy froze.

"The Cassadaga Coven?" George repeated weakly.

"Yes, the Cassadaga Coven. She should be Apparating right now if she's prompt..."

That moment, a woman dressed predominantly in black appeared in their living room. Caroline Newman was tall, though not ungracefully so, or so it appeared. Later, Fred would realize that she was in fact an inch shorter than he. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, and had thick dark hair cut short to frame her face. Caroline Newman struck people as powerful - a fact that few could explain given her average height, delicate complexion, and slender build.

"Hello," she said in greeting. Her speech was devoid of an "American" accent, but was still far from that of the Weasleys' own English voices. "My name is Caroline. As ridiculous as it may sound, I mean you no harm. No, Minister, I can give you no names, and I can tell no secrets. But I can help you find the child. If only for my own selfish reasons."

"Who is this child, and what reason have you to seek her out?" Percy asked.

"She is the next Bearer of the Wand, and her power and knowledge are being misused by her caretakers. The Wand was given into the care of a Squib while Voldemort and war swept across the land. Not even his Death Eaters would defy the creed that holds the wand sacred. It is too powerful a tool to ever be used, except in peacetime. This Squib, defying orders, betrayed the coven. She kidnapped the Future Bearer, killed her parents, and fled. Previous to and after Voldemort's final defeat, many of our members disappeared. They may be in Azkaban, or were killed by him. I do not know. With our number so few, we were not able to track them unless the Future Bearer used the wand."

"But, what is the Cassadaga Coven, then? You have been feared throughout the globe for the power you wield - "

"The Cassadaga Cover was formed in Morgan Le Fay's time. It has always consisted of approximately 16 members - 13 protectors, dedicated to the guarding of the Wand; one Squib, to care for the Wand in times of trouble; the Bearer, a Maiden; and the Future Bearer, who learns from the Bearer her role. The Wand can only be commanded by a Maiden - or Harry Potter, for he is one of the rare males of our kind. However, complete anonymity is enforced, so no one knows who is a member."

"Are you the Bearer?"

"You are quicker than I thought, Minister. Yes, I am; but I can no more identify the future Bearer and Squib than I can call myself normal. I k now only that the Wand is being used, and for devious ends."

"So, that clears a few ends up...are you saying that a child could raise You-Know-Who from the dead?"

"Oh, certainly. You underestimate the power of a Maiden, and of the Wand. Many, many Maidens stronger than Morgan Le Fay have been born since her - children your tests could not detect. Oh. you are not familiar with the term? It is someone who has power, endless power - almost always a girl. But the Wand gives them the means to harness it."

"What is this Wand?"

"Why, it is the Viridian Wand. Surely you have heard of it?"

The Weasleys exchanged glances.

"All right. Who's going to go fetch Harry and Ginny?" Percy inquired.

"Not me!" The twins exclaimed.

Percy sighed and put his head in his hands. Caroline looked on with amusement.

_________________________________________________________________

Harry woke up at the loud tapping of something on the window. He moaned and buried his head in his pillow. The tapping persisted.

"Mmph?" murmured the person beside him sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep. I'll get it," he said to Ginny. Harry slipped out of the bed and went to the window.

"By Morgan's Wand, what do you want? It's nearly three in the morning!" He was not too pleased at finding Percy hovering outside the window on his broomstick.

"Er - em - I'm sorry to disturb you. It's about Morgan's Wand, actually. We've a visitor. Can you and Ginny meet me in the front lawn in five minutes?"

"In ten."

"All right, but do hurry; it's rather pressing."

"I see." With that parting shot, Harry closed the window, rather annoyed with the man who had roused him out of a sound sleep. He bent over Ginny. "Wake up, Ginny, we've got to go."

"Mrrh!" she complained.

"I know, I know. But Percy's found something - or someone."

"Oh!" She sat straight up in bed. "The child?" 

"I don't know. He said something about Morgan's Wand."

"The Viridian Wand? The emerald?"

"Yes, that's it." 

Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth in realization. When she spoke, it was in tones so low that he could barely hear her.

"Oh, that explains everything."

Harry blinked in surprise.

_________________________________________________________________

What took everyone by surprise was Ginny's reaction upon seeing Caroline. She flung herself down on her knees and bowed before standing again. Caroline simply smiled, touching the woman on her head with her own wand, which was long and silvery.

"Bearer," Ginny said, accepting the acknowledgment.

"Protector," Caroline replied.

"You are of the Cassadaga Coven?" Percy sputtered in surprise.

Harry said nothing. Perhaps he had suspected something of the sort all along.

"Protector, you have been alerted to the usage of the Wand, no?" Caroline said, seemingly unaware of Percy's outburst.

"Yes, Bearer. The child's power is almost tangible, but she is being used by the Squib for evil." Ginny answered.

"Are you well enough from your Watching duties to assist?"

"Well enough, it does not matter. He is a Bearer, do not forget, and stronger even than you." She turned to Harry, as did Caroline. "Harry, will you help? If the Squib succeeds, Voldemort will rise again. If the Squib should fail, she will surely kill the child."

"Of course," he said.

"You know of us," Caroline said suspiciously.

"Deep in Unspeakables, there are those who know of everything. And as you knew each other, I know you."

She nodded. "That is true." The tension in her body, which had been apparent as soon as he stepped in the room, disappeared, and she relaxed.

"How will you find her? They must be thoroughly hid by an Inconspicuous Charm," Percy asked, once more trying to get a foot into the conversation.

"They'll not be using that. For such Dark Magic, certain...circumstances are needed. The earth...They are within the earth, deep underground, enough that the Wand only alerted Ginny and I, Bearer and nearest Protector. Morgan's Wand is at home deepest in the earth, with a fire. They are in this country, and near Ginny, near here...We have until midnight this day to find them."

"Only until midnight?"

"Tonight is the anniversary of Voldemort's death - and the only night on which he can arise."

_________________________________________________________________

Lowell slept. She lay on a pallet stained, like Abram's robes, with the dust - like red-brown dirt. Abram himself was preparing for the Master's arrival, deep in the heart of the hill.

The child, the Future Bearer, leaned against the dirt of the wall. She was exhausted, but sleep had not come yet. Often it did not come; she judged the pattern of day and night by Lowell's frequent rests.

Vaguely she touched the Wand; they'd left it with her again. It was not cool, but warm, a heady fire like that of the hearth. It was a sensuous but austere thing, a long emerald lying there winking in the dim glow of the room. The hearth in there was warm but unaided by magic.

She studied Lowell tiredly; it wasn't as if she didn't know every highlight in that hair, every muscle in that body, as well as if it were her own. There was no love between them, to make them mother and daughter to each other; even though she wanted a mother terribly, Lowell's desire for power had long since put a damper on any affection they might have for each other. Only a wide sea of apathy lay between them. And emptiness of everything.

Who was her mother, she wondered idly. Not even a memory of her parents remained with her. They were dead, by Lowell's hand, that she knew. With Muggle tricks she had destroyed the cleverest of wizards, Lowell had boasted; poisoning them and torching their house to hide the child's absence. The child comprehended this only slightly; the horror was beyond her grasp, as so few things were. Terror and fear were alien to her. But they would not be for long.

Lowell stirred on the bed, writing. Blinking, she sat up and yawned. The black robes were twisted around her inelegantly,and for a moment she looked as youthful as the child herself. Then she shook her head and stood up. 

"Abram!" she called, "Abram, how long until we must summon him?"

"Twenty hours. Rest yourself," was Abram's final reply from the next room.

"It's just...Does she know?"

"No. It will be better that way. He will take great pleasure in a fight. It will strengthen him. She mustn't be too willing."

"The blood..."

"Now, Lowell," Abram appeared in the doorway. He waved a finger at her. "Don't be such a woman! The only reason I brought you along at all is because you swore you wouldn't do this. Yes, there will be blood! You will most likely have to see it. It matters not. You will be given your power. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"Then stop blubbering, and get to bed! You'll need your strength."

The child began to feel unease.

***~CHAPTER 5 - "Get Back"~* **

"No luck?" Percy inquired of the five weary researchers six hours later.

"There are two hundred and fifty six possible locations where she might be. That's only within a 150-kilometre radius of London. We have to assume that she is that near as well; since we don't know where the members of the coven live, we can't know in what proximity Ginny had to be to the wand to sense it." Fred grumbled. He and George were the only ones still awake. Harry and Ginny had barely lasted an hour, though Caroline had hung on for three. They searched through the dusty records procured instantly from the London Wizarding Library - one that had pioneered in teaching books to Apparate to their readers.

The books themselves contained maps of London, old and new, and lists of known magical workplaces. The large stack that had nearly reached the ceiling now was reduced to just a few books.

Ginny yawned.

"Up yet?" inquired Fred.

"They're not in London," she said faintly, still half asleep.

"Salisbury, then?"

"Not Stonehenge, you fool. She is within the earth. A cave. Mountains. Hell is near, she says. 'Within the Mage'."

It was then that Percy and Fred (George having finally dozed off) realized that Ginny wasn't sleepy. She was mind talking again.

"Is she in the U.K.?" Fred asked cautiously.

"Deep within. Yes, within the Isle. Hell's Bridge, she says, aptly named. Tonight. No more. Send only Harry." With that, Ginny closed her eyes, and relaxed into what appeared to be sleep.

"That...was a bit odd," said Percy, fumbling for words.

"Indeed. How opportune."

"Do you think she wants to help you...or trap you?"

"Honestly, I don't know. When Ginny wakes, I'll ask her...She'll be able to tell us. I trust her judgment...A better question: Mountains and a bridge to Hell?"

"Hmm...I used to have a friend who lived in Devil's Bridge, in Wales. Does that sound right?"

"Of course! I should have known. It's in the midst of the Cambrian Mountains, exactly where they'll be. You're a genius, Percy!"

"Really?"

"Of course not, but thank you anyway. Now, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up at noon."

"All right." Percy watched as his exhausted brother finally laid down for a nap. Soon, Fred was fast asleep. But Percy had no intentions of going back to bed. He'd have five hours of fitful sleep already, and several questions were plaguing him. He sat down at a table.

"_Accio_ parchment. _Accio_ pen," he said softly. With parchment in front of him and pen in hand, he began to write:

-Why did Harry's scar hurt? Even if someone was communicating with You-Know-Who, You-Know-Who was incapable of acting on any plans he might have.

-If the Future Bearer is just a child, forced to obey her caretakers' will, why does she trust us? Is she capable of understanding good and bad? Or does she mean to harm us?

-Is Harry as powerful as the Future Bearer? Why is Caroline weaker than he is? 

These questions bothered him. Harry's scar. The Future Bearer's loyalty. Caroline's weakness. None of them made sense to him.

He glanced at the clock. 11 o' clock. It was time to wake Harry.

_________________________________________________________________

"Harry, time to get up!" The voice was insistent. Harry slid tentatively into consciousness.

"Percy?" he said, identifying the voice.

"Yes. You've slept six hours. I know you're tired, but you're the only one who can help me - "

"It's all right." He stood up, gently lifting Ginny off his shoulder and letting go of her hand. Settling her on to the couch, he placed a few pillows behind her head. Leaning over her, he placed a kiss on her forehead. Ginny smiled faintly in her sleep.

Percy led the way to the kitchen. Once Harry had sat down with a bowl of cereal, the Minister of Magic spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm?"

"About...what I said about you. About Ginny."

"It's a miracle, you know."

"Me forgiving you?"

"Ginny forgiving me." Harry smiled. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No, actually. Look - " Percy shoved a list of questions under his nose. "Can you answer any of these?"

Harry scanned them over with a critical eye. "Hmm...Yes. Some of them. The third - "

"You know about Caroline? I thought that was the one question I wouldn't get an answer to!"

"She told me. Both of her parents were killed by Voldemort - " Percy flinched - "And she was orphaned when she was six. She was raised by her dowager auntie, a kind-hearted witch, who taught her all she knew of magic, and upon her death Caroline was given to the Cassadaga Coven. She's never had any formal schooling. If she had, Caroline would be a greater wizard than me. As it is, she's no help in a duel, but otherwise she's on of the most powerful witches in the world."

"Oh." Percy looked a bit startled.

"Percy, you shouldn't be here. Go home to Penelope tonight. Be with your children. If anyone can stop Voldemort from rising again, it is us, but the fight will be hard. It's too dangerous for you to come. Promise me, or I won't tell you anymore."

"Harry!"

"Promise."

Percy sighed in submission. "Fine, then."

"Did you ever hear about the time that Voldemort and I dueled when I was a fourth year? Our wands reacted to each other, and visions of his past spells appeared from his wand. There was no spell of me.

"At the time I got my scar, the current Squib was murdered. The wand went missing for nearly a year, according to Caroline, and was mostlikely used by a powerful Dark Wizard. To do powerful dark things. My scar had not hurt since that duel my fourth year, until last Monday at 11:09 PM. Perhaps, and this is pure conjecture, my scar hurts only when Dark Arts are being performed by the Viridian Wand, the Wand that was used in Voldemort's unsuccessful attempt to kill me. It used to hurt when Voldemort was...feeling particularly murderous, but not anymore." Harry went silent, surprised he'd said so much. 

"Why would he use that wand only to kill you?"

"He must have been a Protector once. He was powerful enough. The Viridian Wand was the only wand that would enable him to kill me, if I was a Bearer. But even that didn't work..."

"Don't dwell on it, Harry. It's long past."

"I know."

"Ginny was mind-talking again earlier. In her sleep."

"I know that, too. It told her that if she kept on with that she'd tire herself out, so she fell asleep holding my hand. Her borrowing my power doesn't affect me. If you're wondering, it was the child who initiated the talk."

"What is mind-talking, anyway?"

"It's a mind-meld between two people. They hear and see through each other's eyes as well as their own. Someone as practiced as Ginny can also echo the conversation out loud, though it's lightning fast in actuality."

Percy nodded, appearing interested. "It's a new magical technology?" 

"Yes. It was pioneered by Lupin just nine years ago. He and Sirius developed it."

"Have you heard from Sirius lately?" Percy asked. He himself had pardoned Harry's godfather just six years before, in time for Sirius to hunt down and eventually capture the man who had ruined twelve years of his life; Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail.

"He's in Albania, I think. It's nearly eleven-thirty. Shouldn't we wake the others and get the show on the road?" Harry stood up from the table and walked over to the living room without waiting for an answer. Ginny was already awake, leafing through "England: A Wizarding History".

"Ready to go?" she said, quietly so she wouldn't wake the others.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

_________________________________________________________________

Caroline had taken charge of the car; procured from a nearby Wizarding Auto Rental. An Enchanted Muggle car, it was an ancient Volkswagen bus, circa 1967. Once owned by American hippie Muggles, all that could be said for it was roomy. She just hoped it didn't bust apart enroute to their destination.

Oh, she had selfish reasons for getting the Wand back. The Wand was wonderful, as was her power, but compared to revenge it was nothing. Revenge was what she craved. Revenge on Voldemort, for killing her mother, her father, her husband. Dueling was beyond her, but an outright attack - the Wand and "Avada Kedavra" would take him down in an instant. Not that a little suffering would hurt. In fact, it might even be better. What she wouldn't give to have him in front of her, to make him pay for their suffering. Voldemort had not been kind enough to mutter the death curse, not when he had killed her parents. She had been six then; she was thirty-three now. In the twenty-seven years that had passed, she had never lost her rage. She had only bottled it up for now.

Caroline steered the car carefully, oblivious to the conversation. She was going to betray the coven she belonged to, going to kill in anger, going to kill him, kill those people that dared use the Future Bearer to raise him. She was right, wasn't she? Yes, don't ever think otherwise. It was justice, pure justice; it was all in her hands now.

The clear blue sky stretched in front of her, wide and open. But in her heart she saw red. A dark red. Blood staining the earthen floor of a cave, seeping into the ground.

_________________________________________________________________

They were on the edge of the Cambrian Mountains, due east of Devil's Bridge. By then it was four PM, though it would be five hours before dusk fell. They stood as a group a few feet away from the van.

"Should we split up?" George asked, fanning himself with Ginny's copy of Witch Weekly. The June weather was hot, sticky, and devoid of the slightest cool breeze.

"No, I'd rather not," replied Ginny, with a glance towards the mountains. While not exactly forbidding during the daytime (they were covered with grass, and the sheep grazing on it only added to the picturesque image) they would be alarmingly large and dark at night.

"Oh, come on! Ginny, you've been watching too many Muggle movies on that dratted television of yours! It's a good idea. We can't possibly cover all that terrain in one group. Each person can go off, and - "

"Ginny's right," Harry interjected, "we'll be easier for them to take on if we're by ourselves. If we do split up, we should go in groups."

"Right on!" Fred exclaimed. "How about us Weasley twins go off to the south, while Harry, Ginny, and Caroline go north?"

"No," Caroline said softly. The other four turned to look at her; she stood apart from them, leaning against the ridiculously bright van. "I will go alone. There are things I must take care of. You stay here for an hour, and then set out in the groups you have planned. Harry and Ginny alone are stronger than you three, so you needn't fear that they won't be safe without me. In fact, they are better off alone."

"Very well," Fred said, "best you go alone. We'll coordinate our plans here, and head into the mountains after that. Where will you go?"

"North." With that, Caroline disappeared.

"How does she know where she's going? Not only is she an American, half the mountains near Devil's Bridge are unplottable!" George said, a bit confused as to the logic of sending Caroline off by herself.

"Even unplottable areas can be mapped, given time and great magic. Three maps have been in the possession of the coven since Morgan Le Fay's time. Even Durmstrang is on the ever-changing maps. Caroline has one, as does the Squib. The other is within the coven's home," Ginny remarked in reply.

"Could you get it?" George asked.

"No. The Bearer and at least one Protector must be present to open the gates."

"How do you become a Protector, anyway?"

"It is passed down through a family, though it is not affected by purity of blood. When Ron died...I became the Weasley Protector."

"Ron was a Protector!?!"

"And his daughter the Future Bearer."

There was utter silence within the small circle.

Then George spoke.

"Ginny, you're off your rocker! Mica is dead. She burned up in that house with her parents, and you can't bring her back!"

"They never found her body. And the fire was no instrument of Voldemort's. Even he could not have found them. Harry, like Sirius, would never have betrayed his friends. Fire is a weapon of choice of a Muggle."

"Or a Squib," said Fred.

"It's all in the history books, you know. Hermione discovered that I was a Bearer in our seventh year. Many Bearers are orphaned at a young age, their parents gone, murdered, dead. She just never though she would be a mother to one," Harry commented softly. "We didn't know about the coven."

"That's horrible!" Fred was referring to Hermione.

"It's true."

"And if we want to find the Girl Who Lived, Mica if we're going along with Ginny's crazy theory, we've got to make a plan. It's an insane gamble, searching for a cave in a vast area of unplottable mountains, but I think we can find it. We've got to save her, and stop Voldemort from rising again!" George said emphatically.

"I think I've got a plan," Harry said. He had been laboring over a piece of parchment for the past few minutes. "Llwellyn, Magehill, and Stonefox are the nearest Unplottables, according to Mountains of Wales. George and Fred, you'll look for Llwellyn and Stonefox in the south. Ginny and I will search for Magehill up north."

"Magehill...somehow the name rings a bell. I can't remember..." Fred muttered, pondering.

"It's been used as a workplace for complex magical workings since Merlin's time." George said. 

"Still..." Fred persisted.

"Oh, do shut up. Gather your stuff everybody, and eat. We're not going to be back for quite a while!"

_________________________________________________________________

By the time darkness fell over Devil's Bridge and its mountains and consumed them, Harry still had seen no sign of Magehill. He estimated that they had travelled over four kilometres away from their starting point, in the four hours since they had left it.

Ginny tugged at his elbow.

"Harry, please, can't we stop? Just a minute, please...oh, it's so dark we'll never find it. How are we supposed to know we've found it, anyway? Magical residue?"

"I suppose. Let's climb up over on that hill, and I'll have some of the tea I brought with me. Perhaps we'll sense something higher up."

"Perhaps."

Harry had barely taken a seat on the hill before Ginny giggled.

"What now?"

"Well, I...I think we've found the mountain, Harry. This is Magehill. It's just not very big."

He hopped onto his feet in an instant. They bounded up the side of the hill, only to find a large, immovable rock blocking a doorway into the innards of the hill. He groaned disconsolately.

"Do you remember any of Dumbledore's passwords?" Harry asked.

"You don't mean..."

"This appears to be the only way to enter. We've got to crack the password, or we'll never get in."

"We could transfigure the stone...but they'll have thought of that."

"If this dates back to Merlin's time, wouldn't that be Morgan Le Fay's as well? Does the coven know of this place?"

"I assume so... hey! The coven's password might work!"

"Try it."

"All right. Talamasca!"

Nothing happened. Harry stared at Ginny.

"You've got a thing for Muggle literature, too?"

"Not me, the Bearer. She's quite fond of Anne Rice."

He shook his head in disbelief. Then he sighed.

"We're going to be here a while, Ginny."

"Damn rock."

_________________________________________________________________

The dirt room with the hearth was furnished differently this time; the floors swept freshly, a long bier stretching out in front of the fire. It was splattered with the blood of a freshly killed animal, now a sacrifice to the rebirthing of a man long dead. A few scraps of bone lay on the bier; they were far older than the sacrifice, nearly five years dead was the body that had once housed them.

The child had bathed and discarded the rough brown tunic. Now she wore long robes of red silk, shot through with gold. The sort of outfit that young Future Bearers wore. It too had a hood, as did most garments she had; best that her face be covered, Lowell had said. She unnerved people, she'd always known that. And Lowell had feared she'd be recognized.

As what? the child had wondered. She was, to the casual glance, a nameless mute simpleton. The only truth in that was that she was nameless. And nameless and unknown, how could she be recognized? Lowell was confusing.

She peered at her reflection in the pool of blood on the bier. She lifted back the hood, which has lined in gold silk, from her face. Her hair was long, to her waist, thick and wavy, a pale brown. Eyes a pale, smooth watery blue, face nondescript to her own vision; she was a moth, a strange and unusual spin on the basic model.

Hearing footsteps, the child slipped the hood over her head, and turned to face the fire. The steps were quick and sure, certainly those of Lowell. It was, she decided, a most opportune time to have some fun.

_Flames_, she addressed them emphatically in her mind, _Dance for me. Do my bidding._

The fire roared, and a small string of flames extended from it. She cupped her hands beneath them, caught them; they tickled her palms softly. In her mind, she chuckled. Go! She threw open her arms, scattering the flames, watching them flicker and dance without heat or burning. faintly she heard Lowell scream, but she was barely aware of her now. The twinkling lights filled every corner, and she giggled out loud in sheer delight. Then she sighed in resignation. Out. Abram had entered.

Playtime was over.

***~CHAPTER 6 - "All Hail Me" ~* **

"Lumos!" pronounced Abram, and the room filled with light. "Enough of that, child. Enough."

Lowell was still frightened and hyperventilating. "Yes, Listen - to - him."

Abram set a large silk cushion on the very end of the bier, where there was no blood. "Sit here."

The child made no response, but after a moment she climbed up on the cushion, sitting cross-legged clumsily, but with absolute dignity. She held out a hand impatiently. When nothing happened, she snapped her fingers, and continued to hold out her hand.

"She wants the wand, Abram. You took it from her when she changed, remember?" Lowell said.

"Are you blind? She doesn't need the Wand, she - " Abram snapped.

The child snapped her fingers again. Even with her face hidden by the hood, her irritation and displeasure were quite apparent.

"Give it to her."

Muttering something under his breath, Abram did so. The child straightened, flicked out her wrist, and pointed her wand at the hearth.

Before she did so, Abram said quietly, "Get towards the back of the room. She doesn't need us now."

The child's voice, high and lilting, filled the room. The words she spoke were as old as time, though their language would be as foreign to their creators as their speaker herself. 

"_Give him breath, he who cannot breathe. Take his rotting eyes and make them see. May the blood in his veins be returned, he who once lived and is now no more. Thirst bestow on him he who soon shall sup, of blood and bone, to raise him up. Remember of his friend and foe, he shall take on up, putting the other below. When he battles, life shall be ensured, should his foe's triumph be deterred. Raise him up, from coffin and shroud; strong as once was, strong and proud. But all dead souls look the same; for identification, here is the name._"

"Voldemort!"

At first, nothing happened. But then the earth began to quake beneath their feet, shaking clods of dirt from the ceiling overhead. The fire flickered, and the light within the wand swelled until the child thought she would be blinded by its radiance. Then the great orb of light fractured into a million pieces, forming a starry link of light into the heart of the fiery inferno. It throbbed as though it had a pulse, before the flames of the hearth roared up and swallowed it completely. 

The shattered fragments of light drifted out from the fire, falling like small, dazzling comets on the bier. Gradually the form of a man began to appear. As the figure became more solid and lost the flickering qualities of 1920's Muggle cinemas, it seemed to absorb the bone and blood offerings that had been so gracefully placed on the long stone table. Slowly, as the facial features gathered shape and sustenance, it became clear to the child, in a flash of surprise and growing horror, that Lowell and Abram had succeeded in their aims.

Voldemort had been risen from the dead.

It seemed hours, but it was a matter of minutes before he had reached his previous form. The creature who was once called Tom Marvolo Riddle was as fearsome as ever, his skin whiter than the purest white of Muggle printer paper. His mouth and eyes seemed no more than gaping wounds in that smooth flesh, for his nose was the only thing projecting from it. Voldemort's terrifying image alone could, and had, sent Cornelius Fudge in a dead faint, and he had revelled in it while he lived.

As soon as it was clear that he was fully formed, Voldemort sat up with a sudden lurch, turning to face the three that had brought him back from an Inferno more tumultuous and turbulent than Dante could ever have imagined.

Voldemort seized his wand, which had been buried amongst the scraps of bone, and pointed it straight at Lowell.

"Hello there, my sweet," he said in a voice that appeared to have chilled even Abram to the bone. "You have done me a great favour by bringing this child into the fold, but, alas, I have no further use for you. Don't worry, you'll receive your reward; I won't make you suffer like Lloyd and Amaryllis Newman. _Avada Kedavra!"_

A searing bolt of green light shot forth from the wand, striking Lowell down before she could utter a word. Her body lay still and lifeless in a small cloud of dust. She lay there like a limp puppet, eyes glazed and staring, limbs bent at unnatural angles, and she did not get up.

The child turned her head up to his, her right hand extended holding her wand. With her left hand, she drew her hood back from her face.

"Don't move," she said quietly. "Unlike you, I do not enter a battle with my intentions masked. I am no Muggle killer, and I will kill no purebloods exclusively. Let's start out even; one half-blood to another. For that is all you are."

"How dare you - " "You impudent, disgusting - " Abram and his master said simultaneously, drawing their wands.

Her scream cut through all levels of consciousness. "Enough!" The child did several things at once; she rolled back the entrance's door, spread her arms wide, her wand clutched tightly, summoning every drop of power in her. "There will be no more of your trickery here!" She barely heard them murmuring the Killing Curse, it didn't register in her consciousness. 

She let the power flow through her.

_Death. _

_________________________________________________________________

Harry and Ginny were taking a short break from their attempts to guess the Magehill password. The moon was high, and it was very nearly midnight, the eve of Friday morn. The stars glittered like tiny Snitches in the sky.

"Tea?" Harry queried. In the twilight, he was strangely illuminated, as she herself must be, Ginny thought. It was a strange sort of light that almost seemed to pass through her. She felt translucent. "You're right. It's odd."

"Do you ever turn off your mind-reading?" Ginny asked.

"Most of the time"

"I rarely use mine when I'm off duty. It's...unnerving. Like the moon. It's awfully bright tonight."

"Like the night...the night they died. The house was bathed in pearly-white light - what was left of it, that is."

"Do you think of them often?"

"All the time. It's what drove me out of the country. They haunt my dreams. I just keep wondering...could there have been anything I could have done to save them?" 

"I wondered that for a long time. But we can help them now, Harry; if we can save their daughter. She's waiting for us. In there."

As she spoke, he felt something rumble beneath them, shaking the earth.

"Oh, shit," Harry said. "We have company." 

"Mica!" She screamed. "Mica, let us in. Please...let us help you..."

Her efforts were futile. She threw her body against the rock, crying and pleading. After several minutes of this, it was clear that she was going to be bruised and sore the next day. Harry grabbed her.

"For the love of Merlin, Ginny, you're not doing a - " he explained. The rock swung out from the door, and he continued weakly. "Thing." They stared at each other for a moment, then ran down the just-revealed passageway hand in hand.

The first thing Ginny saw when they got to the doorway of the room was a small girl, her features distorted with fury, standing atop a large silken pillow. Belatedly, she noticed two men, one whom she knew as Abram Malfoy, Lucius's uncle, the other who was... You-Know-Who. The two men, if you could call the latter that, raised their wands as one.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" they cried.

The air sizzled with power. The static was so great you could almost hear the air crackle. An unearthly light filled the room, a glare of viridian the colour of Harry's emerald eyes by moonlight. Death, it screamed, and Ginny knew "it" was the girl.

Then the light disappeared, as fast as it had come. A circle of transparent, filmy people enclosed the three. There must have been fifty people, all of them witches. A beautiful woman with raven hair stepped forward.

"Lord Voldemort, this is not the first time you have dared to violate our creed, to desecrate and betray our coven," she said in a language Ginny had never heard before, but instantly understood. "Retaliation is in order. Daughters, son," the witch gestured to Harry, much to Ginny's surprise, "Let us send these creatures home, and thoroughly enough that they may never be transported to the material world again."

The ghostly witches, the tiny girl, and Harry all raised their wands. The cavern was swallowed by the fierce explosion of light and magic. When the dust settled, only the raven-haired witch was left of the spectral visitors. Malfoy and Voldemort were nowhere to be seen.

"Children," she said gently. "You have shown bravery beyond that of any of your kind before you. You, Protector, have worked hard in your quest to keep safe the Wand. I give you my love and my blessing." Her last word had not echoed in the chamber before she, too, was gone.

The child slid off the bench. She was exhausted, and her face was slick with tears, but Ginny knew her for what she was. Ron's milky blue eyes stared at her out of that childish face; Hermione's bushy brown hair, tamed by a few Weasley genes,framed it. Suddenly, the girl started weeping, scared, tired, and sleepy as she was. Ginny took her in her arms, smoothing her hair and patting her back. 

"Oh, Mica, Mica," she said, "it will be okay. I promise you."

"Mum?" Asked the tearful child hopefully.

"Only Aunt Ginny, dear, and Uncle Harry, but we'll always be here. We'll always take care of you, Mica."

"Mica?"

"That is your name," Harry said.

"I have a name! I have a name!" Mica cried jubilantly, and Ginny knew exactly how she felt. 

"And we have you," Harry said, echoing her thoughts. She felt his arms embrace her and their niece, and she fought back tears.

"A real family," she said, almost in wonder. "After all this time."

They were in no state to notice Caroline's fury at Voldemort's defeat without her help when she arrived, just fifteen minutes later. Fred and George received little more attention. 

They were together, and it was all that mattered.

****

***~EPILOGUE~***

(Six Months Later)

Harry watched as Mica played with her new pack of Exploding Snap, an early Christmas present from Fred and George. One of her cards blew up suddenly, and she gave a small smile. Other children would have giggled, or shouted with glee, but from Mica the slightest smile was a sign of absolute mirth. He had yet to hear her laugh.

The fire in the fireplace behind Mica was roaring; a good thing, since it was a very chilly winter night. His wife snuggled a bit closer to him.

"Do you think it'll be good for Mica?" Ginny asked. "Having a cousin, that is?"

"I suppose," he replied thoughtfully. "Having a cousin can be rather nice at times. Of course, Dudley...he was a bit of a rotter."

"Harry!" she objected. "Don't be comparing your own child to Dudley Dursley! Do you want our baby to be a fat prig?"

"Not really, now that you mention it. Though from what I can see now, the baby's going to look like a beach ball."

"That's not nice!" Ginny protested, but she was smiling. "Just wait 'til you are five months pregnant, in the middle of the freezing winter, forced to wear mounds of clothing so heavy you can hardly move, and your feet are swollen and you can't even think about shoes without them hurting!"

They promptly dissolved into gales of laughter. Mica laughed too, at first hesitantly, then a bit louder.

It was, as Harry later thought, one of the few times he had ever been truly happy.

_________________________________________________________________

Mica lay in her bed, snuggled under two quilts courtesy of Grandma Weasley. She clutched a doll her Grandma Granger had given her. It had once been her mother's.

She could hardly believe she was there. This was as close to paradise as she would ever get, with Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, who, in addition to loving her to death, had known her parents. Her father, her mother.

In the picture on her dresser table, they gleefully waved at her, her mother with her bushy, thick brown hair and warm brown eyes, her father with a mop of bright red hair and her own pale blue eyes. It was their wedding day, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny waving behind them, best man and maid of honour that they were. All four were clustered in front of a chapel she had once seen when she was living in London.

London, she thought, was not a fond memory. She had lived there for a year and a half, after Lowell had left the Goyles', sharing a flat with some young wizards who dabbled in the Dark Arts. Time there had not been very pleasant, compared to her residence with the Goyles for three years.

Mica shuddered, thinking of London. If they knew the truth about her, would they still love her?

**THE END**

...or is it?

**A word or 49 from the author: **

Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for the next Love Gordon HP story, which is tentatively titled "Harry Potter and the Girl With Two Faces". I hope to have it finished in late June/early July. It's going to be even longer...and we will discover Mica's secret...

J Love Gordon

**Love's Site O' The Week: **

Schnoodle.com: [http://www.geocities.com/heiditandy/][1]

Got a site? Pick up a button that proudly proclaims your shipper preferences… should you have any. They had a wide selection, and an even wider one should be coming soon, thank goodness. Of course, that's coming from a person who has been known to ship H/H, R/H, H/G, F/A, D/H, and even… D/H! (Though not usually at the same time.) 

**A Contest 4 U: **

The first person to correctly figure out where the chapter titles are from will get a short cameo in my next fic. Anyone else with the correct answer I will mention at the end. 

**Thank you:** Laurie, Cody, & the Lunchtable; Fay, marvelous artiste; the beta-reading Coverston brothers; Lissanne, beta-reader extraordinaire: & Mom, Dad, BJ, & Bob. And everyone else, especially my 2000-2001 teachers- hugs and kisses!

**Last, but not least, a REALLY HUGE THANK YOU to the two people who enabled me to write this fic:** Mrs. Flewelling, my Algebra teacher, in whose class I wrote most of it, and Amber B., who selflessly sacrificed seven hours typing this up. For a fee, yes, but still selflessly. 

Love can be reached at [zer0_gurl@yahoo.com][2]and [rockin_doll@popstar.com][3]. She hopes the latter is a bit easier for you to spell. The fact she is referring to herself in the third person is seriously frightening her.

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/heiditandy/ 
   [2]: mailto:zer0_gurl@yahoo.com
   [3]: mailto:rockin_doll@popstar.com



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